


Listening for Nothing

by Smooth_Kreminal



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Past Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-18 12:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15485409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smooth_Kreminal/pseuds/Smooth_Kreminal
Summary: Sent on a spy mission doomed to fail, Ishwari Ghale finds herself far closer to the tyrannical king than any spy before her. Pagan Min, while hellbent on sending a bloody message to all who dare oppose him, can't help but play along with the wife of his only adversary - at least until he finds a reason to kill them both.





	1. Chapter 1

The Royal Guards escorted her to what should have been her doom. The man who had offered his arm to her when she had first arrived, suicidal request on her lips, gave nothing away with his gentle grip. It was all she could do to keep holding on. 

She paid no mind to the two guards a few paces behind, her entire focus on the massive door approaching. This had to be it, so ornate and intricately decorated it could only hide the most valuable of possessions. The king was undoubtedly behind this door - oh if Mohan Ghale could see her now. 

Her escort said nothing as he pushed open the gilded doorway, delicately releasing her to enter on her own accord. Ishwari wouldn’t dare to keep the tyrant waiting though, would she? 

Her first step was weak and puny, swaying slightly on the spot as panic encapsulated her mind momentarily. Her eyes were trapped staring at the stained floorboards as her husband’s warnings flooded her senses. With as much subtlety as she could, she shook her head, pushing her emotions and terror away in a dangerous frenzy. She had chosen not to heed his warnings for a reason, after all. 

“Are you alright there, my dear?” Ishwari heard his voice before she saw him, shambling forward with uncertainty, only just finding the courage to look up. “You look rather pale, do you need anything? Water, Aspirin, cocaine, just sing out if there’s something we can do for you.” 

The man himself was draped over a throne with the likeness to an elephant head - a statement of sacrilege and power. While small, he seemed to fill up the entire room around him, every golden trinket and priceless masterpiece a mere distraction compared to the ruthless tyrant. 

His words dripped with hospitality, but his dark eyes projected nothing but cruelty. Ishwari dropped to her knees, her heart in her throat as she silently begged the monster not to make an example out of her. 

“Ah, the kneeling. So awkward, makes me think everyone’s terrified of me. Me! Kyrat’s beloved Pagan Min!” 

It took a second for the words to process in Ishwari’s racing mind, but she quickly scrambled to get up off the ground, determined not to anger the king. He stood up suddenly, leather shoes squeaking softly as he made his way down the steps towards her. 

“And yet I never said stop.” His words were harsh and pointed, nothing hospitable to hide behind as the woman slowly lowered herself once more, completely powerless to do otherwise. 

“Mrs Ghale, is it?” Min didn’t wait for an answer, pacing in front of his guest, who didn’t dare to look up. “You can imagine my excitement when I received news of your arrival, can’t you, my dear? The wife of the half-baked terror group’s leader, asking for yours truly by name! Astonishing.” 

Ishwari nodded, unable to keep herself from trembling as the leather boots stopped pacing before her. He made no move to touch her, and yet her skin crawled in sheer anxiety and fear. 

“Oh, look at me!” Pagan Min chuckled, his tone shifting back to warm and jolly, “A powerful woman at my feet and I just can’t stop talking.” Delicately, he pressed the pointed toe of his boot into Ishwari’s chin, forcing her to look up. “Please tell me  _ you _ have something to say...” 

She spoke without thinking, her heart in her throat and her words a mere whisper compared to Min’s theatrical projections. “I like to think of myself as the strong, silent type.” Voice raw and strained, the silence that followed was so tense and thick, Ishwari was certain that Pagan hadn’t heard her stupid, dry statement. 

And then he chuckled, slow at fast, before building up to full-blown laughter, lasting just a stroke too long. Still smiling, he brashly grabbed the woman by her shoulders, pulling her forcefully to her feet.   
“I like it,” he chuckled, dramatically wiping his eyes with his fingertips, “but you’ve still not told me why you’re in my palace, my dear.” Every ounce of playfulness had left his voice. It was time to see if she could talk her way out of a noose. 

“M-My husband,” she stammered, only just looking at him as she spoke, “Mohan Ghale - he’s out of control, I…” Ishwari paused the cover story they had come up with before getting lost in her racing mind. “I seek refuge for myself and my son.” 

Pagan paused, stepping backwards towards his throne. He hadn’t expected that, then again, he wasn’t sure what he had expected. He sat back down, fingers interlaced in what appeared to be consideration. Ishwari definitely hadn’t expected that. 

Even when he was sitting down, Ishwari felt small and powerless compared to him, that said, that wasn’t much change from how she felt around Mohan, as awful as it was. His hair was dark and styled, but not in a way that any of the locals of Kyrat could replicate. He was just so… foreign - it was as intriguing to Ishwari as it was unnerving. The propaganda posters didn’t do him justice. 

“Well, that’s… different.” Pagan noted slowly, rolling the information over in his head. “So where is the little rascal?” He made a visible effort to check the space around Ishwari’s ankles as she shuffled her feet awkwardly, despite knowing that nothing was there. 

“The… what?” she responded weakly, more perplexed than afraid in that moment. 

“Your  _ son _ !” He leaned forward like a viper striking, the Royal Guard closest to him flinching slightly at the movement. “You didn’t leave poor boy alone with the terrorist that’s so ‘out of control’, did you?” 

Ishwari hadn’t expected such a line of questioning either. She stammered slightly, delivering the best story she could come up with in the moment. “Mohan would have been suspicious if I took Ajay from the village… Had I lost the courage to come here and beg for your mercy, returning would be difficult.” 

Pagan Min squinted at her, a cold blooded smile on his lips as he stared deeply into her eyes. Slowly, he reclined, shaking his head softly in amusement, strands of black hair dancing around his face as he did so. 

“You, my dear, are an excellent liar.” 

Ishwari furrowed her brows, face flushing in stress and confusion. Mohan had told her not to get too close, and yet here she was, entirely at the mad king’s mercy. 

“See, I would like to explain to you how I know that you’re not being exactly, well, truthful here, but I have quite an urgent message for you to deliver to your beloved.” 

Her teeth felt like they were going to crack under the pressure as Ishwari pressed them together, shaking as she dreaded to even anticipate Pagan’s next words. “I’m listening.” 

“Since your husband is so desperate that he’s sending his fucking wife to spy on me, I figured I might as well throw him a bone. Never let it be said that King Pagan Min isn’t generous.” He smirked at his own joke, slouching as he looked down at the woman, clearly at a loss for interest. 

Ishwari didn’t say anything, and so he continued: “Tell him that you heard me discussing the attack on your village… tonight?” 

He turned around, addressing the a woman skulking in the shadow of the throne who Ishwari had somehow managed to miss. Pagan was just so distracting. “Are we doing anything tonight?” he muttered. The woman - similar to him, but not quite - shook her head once, dark bangs bobbing slightly over her slender eyes. 

“Yes, okay, attack on your village  _ tonight. _ Before you ask, yes, we have all the locations and information. Perhaps I’ll show you how on your next visit.” He winked once, smiling triumphantly as it became clear that he had beaten Ishwari before she could even breathe a full breath in his palace. 

Ishwari didn’t move, still trying to process what had just happened - the ruthless killer knew she was a spy, and he was asking her to deliver a warning? There was nothing right about this scenario. 

“Well, shoo,” Pagan dismissed her, not even looking in her direction anymore as he made a half-hearted gesture with his left hand, “do you need someone to escort you out? Your village is about to be attacked, my dear.” 

She didn’t need to hear anything else. Slowly at first, she stepped away, feet tripping as she struggled not to run from what could only be danger. 

Ishwari remembered the way out - the Royal Guards hadn’t even bothered to cover her eyes, clearly not perceiving her as a threat in the slightest. She couldn’t help but feel stupid. 

Yuma and Pagan watched her leave, silent for a moment as even the guards seemed unsure of what to do. Finally, Yuma addressed her adoptive brother, not hiding the contempt from her voice as she spoke of Ishwari in her native tongue. 

“Are we really going to let her go? What do you think you’re doing?” Yuma had always respected Pagan Min, but she just couldn’t wrap her head around why the man who had flayed people alive for simply looking at him was letting a spy for the Golden Path go - the wife of its founder, no less. 

“I think this could be fun,” he replied, matching her Cantonese, “There’s no harm in playing with the monkeys occasionally.” Yuma shook her head, refusing to entertain Pagan’s strange impulses. Sometimes he just didn’t think like a king. 

“Remember you said that when you’re covered in the faeces they’re flinging.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“Mohan!” Ishwari was practically tripping over her skirts as she ran back to the camp. She had spotted him in the fields, checking the perimeters or doing some other work he would have insisted on doing himself. It had been months since she’d been so glad to see him, she might have cried if she wasn’t trying to prove a point.

He turned his head away from the ground and found her in a few seconds, a pink streak contrasting with the pale grasses she stomped through. “Ishwari, what are you doing?”

The two men accompanying Mohan instinctively pulled out their assault rifles, likely checking the hills behind the woman for a tail sent by Pagan Min. The guns didn’t deter Ishwari at all, her speed incredible as she finally reached her husband and his men.

She collapsed in Mohan’s arms, allowing him to take most of her weight as she struggled to catch her breath. It was almost nightfall, but she had made it.

“Are you alright?” Mohan gently stroked her shoulder, hugging her tight. Ishwari nodded, coughing slightly as she regained her normal breathing pattern.

“Where is Samir?” the man to the left of Mohan asked, frowning as he peered through the scope at the empty fields.

“Samir?” Ishwari panted, her body stiffening in her husband’s embrace. Mohan paused before releasing her.

“I… feared for your safety. I sent Samir to tail you, just in case something happened, or you needed someone to escort you back.”

“Samir is your second in command! He needs to be here!” Ishwari pushed him away, momentarily forgetting the threat that Pagan Min had promised for her husband’s stubbornness. “How could you send such an important person into the heart of the conflict?”

“I sent my wife, didn’t I?” he replied coldly. While true, it had been a power trip for him - he made no effort to hide it. He had expected Ishwari to be horrified, and return home with nothing to report, no more complaints on her tongue.

“It’s just as well,” she grumbled, pushing past the three men, allowing them to follow, “Pagan Min knows our location, and he’s attacking tonight.”

“Tonight?” Mohan grabbed her shoulder, forgetting his anger and breaking her stride, “Are you sure of this?”

“Yes! I overheard him planning it with his sister.” Mohan’s doubt, while justified, was irritating to Ishwari as she struggled to explain herself.

“How did you get so close?” His grip tightened around her upper arm, and she had nowhere to look as his glare darkened. Ishwari knew that if she told him the truth, he wouldn’t ever let her get involved in the Golden Path again - Gods, she’d be lucky if she was ever allowed out of the main camp. She looked at the ground instead.

“My cover was blown, but I convinced Pagan I was seeking refuge for Ajay.”

“And he believed you?” Mohan snorted, releasing Ishwari’s shoulder. His smile quickly faded when he realised what that meant. “Does that mean you have to go back?”

She nodded, her body rigid and stiff as she lied without words. She didn’t want to deceive him, but she couldn’t just watch the conflict and do nothing like he wanted. She was more than that.

“Yes... and I need to take Ajay.”

Mohan paused for a moment, eyes unreadable and expression stonewall. He had every reason to decline - his wife and his son in the clutches of a psychopath, the man he’d devoted his life to dethroning - why would he let them go? But Ishwari knew her husband, and her husband cared for his people - his revolution -  more than anything, for better or worse.

Wordlessly, he leant forward to kiss her. She felt a smile on his lips as he did so, pride and guilt intertwining within her at his reaction. He pulled away, and the slit in his eyebrow twitched in excitement as he looked into Ishwari’s eyes, unmasked pride decorating his rugged face.

“This is the kind of thing that wins wars, Ishwari.” Mohan sighed, a touch of the young man who named his rebellion for her dream shining through his battle-hardened features. “His trust in you will be invaluable.”

Ishwari could hardly believe her ears. He trusted her! He thought she was invaluable in the war. Despite the circumstances, she couldn’t help but smile back.

“My love, you need to go quickly. This won’t work unless you’re gone before they attack.” Perhaps there was pain in his eyes, but in that moment, all Ishwari could see was ambition.

“A-Are you sure you want me to take our son? Ajay’s barely one, he-”

“I trust you, Ishwari. This is what’s best for our people.” Mohan cut her off softly, his eyes crinkling around the edges, showing age far beyond his years. This war had taken the best out of everyone.

“And what about the village, our camps? Pagan’s men will-”   
“Pagan’s men won’t hurt our people. I’ll move them out tonight, we won’t even engage them. I promise.”

Despite his interruptions, Ishwari felt like he had more to say, or maybe that was just what she was hoping for. She kissed him gently, conscious of the time they were losing, but not wanting to move at all, gently stroking his stubbly face.

“How will I find you?” She felt like crying, but surely this wasn’t goodbye.

“We’ll work it out.” Mohan promised, his voice trembling in a way that Ishwari had never heard before, “Look out for Samir, he’ll know where we’ve moved.”

Ishwari nodded solemnly, her wish for involvement bittersweet as it finally came true. “I love you,” she told him, before turning away, unable to talk any longer. She had to find Ajay and travel back to Pagan Min’s palace before his men arrived with their ghastly arsenal.

Mohan stopped her one last time, this time his hand gentle and tender as he turned his wife to him for what might be the last time. “I want you to have this. Keep it close at all times.” He delicately pressed something cold and slender into Ishwari’s open palm, reflective and golden in the sunset, with ribbons of pink to match her attire.

 

***

 

The travel back to the palace was a hundred times more gruelling than the previous journeys. Ishwari couldn’t run for great distances while carrying her baby, and the moonlight that dimly lit her path only made her more aware of the sunlight she was missing.

On more than one occasion she had found herself instinctively crouching in nearby bushes and shrubbery, scared senseless by the sounds of snapping twigs and distant gunfire - Ajay just made all the threats so much more real in her mind.

When they finally arrived, it was almost dawn. Pink clouds began to group at the horizon, although it was still dark enough for Ishwari to stumble as she climbed the stairs to Pagan’s stolen estate, fearful of the Royal Guards who parted wordlessly to let her through. She supposed the king really was expecting her back.

The foyer was just as grand and spacious as it had been the day prior, although silence seemed to bounce off the walls in the poor lighting. As eerie as the room was, she didn’t need to ask to be certain that she wouldn’t be allowed to leave this room until Pagan Min had greeted her.

Upon her arrival, a few of the servants had lit the torches and braziers scattered around the edges of the well-decorated room, but the dancing shadows and orangey tones only made the marble walls around her feel sinister and cage-like. She wondered if Pagan had done it on purpose.

One painting on the far wall near the bannister of the grand staircase caught Ishwari’s eye, and she tiptoed over the tiled floor to get a closer look; the portrait of Pagan Min and his sister. Pagan’s painted face wasn’t like the flattering propaganda posters scattered across Kyrat’s depictions, and yet it lacked the dark jest that he seemed to wear like armour up close. He just looked… normal, despite his hairstyle and outfit. She wondered how long ago it had been painted.

A Royal Guard, a man in his forties stationed in the middle of the massive staircase, sneezed, the sound resonating and echoing through the massive room, almost deafening compared to the heavy silence that had rested in there before. Ishwari couldn’t help but jump, pulling Ajay close on instinct, waking him up.

The silence returned for just a second, her heart racing as she did what she could to soothe the young boy, but to no avail. His cry rang out like a siren, shrill and demanding as it cut through the chilly morning air like a blade. The few moments it took to calm him down were all that was needed, and not a minute later the sound of soft footsteps bounding down the marble staircase was present.

“Ah, so you did come back. I can’t say I’m not surprised.” Pagan Min’s descent down the staircase was hurried and uneven, although his voice was steady and unreadable. Ishwari slowly turned, knowing what she’d see, but dreading it all the same.

Despite the early hours of the morning, Pagan still donned his trademark blue suit, still pressed to perfection, not a crease or flaw noticeable in the dim light. The only evidence of any unrest was a slightly unsettled look in his hair, and perhaps a little too much stubble on his jawline to be intentional. Could he have been staying up waiting for her?

“Mohan Ghale sent us,” she admitted, pulling her son closer to her as he too stared at the man with wide eyes. Even without a throne, Pagan Min’s power and majesty filled the air around him like an aura.

Pagan finished his descent and stood before the woman, about a head taller than her and yet so much more. Delicately, he leaned down, eye level with her child. “And you must be Ajay Ghale.” His voice was gentle, and for a moment, he almost seemed human.

Pagan looked up at Ishwari, still bent over. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to Ajay. Despite his gentle exterior, she didn’t trust the man for a moment, especially not with her child. It was foolish to have brought him here at all.

Noticing her hesitation, Pagan sighed and straightened himself. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” it sounded like he was snarling, but his voice was still gentle and his face was expressionless - maybe Ishwari was just scared. “Come along then!”

Seeming to cheer up in an instant, he draped one arm around Ishwari’s shoulders, guiding her up the stairs from the direction he came. His closeness made her anxiety worsen tenfold, but she didn’t dare shrug him away.

“What’s happening?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even so that he wouldn’t know just how scared she really was. It was useless, and she was certain he already knew anyway.

“My dear, I have a surprise for you!” Pagan gleamed, his pace quickening at the thought. “I don’t think you’ll like it, but I promised I’d show you.”

Ishwari looked at the man, determination and sick joy in his eyes as he steadily pushed them onwards. She could only imagine what horrors the future held.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hate hate hate this chapter  
> sorry if it's rushed or insincere or anything like that, it was just such a pain to write

“Now, I’m all for character building, but I really think we should leave the little one when I show you my surprise,” Pagan cackled slightly, making Ishwari’s skin crawl as he continued to guide her. The palace was so easy to navigate by day, but in the dim torchlight she found she could hardly keep track of the winding hallways and antique marble walls. Surely he could get proper lighting here if he so desired? 

“No way.” she refused, slowing her walk and forcing Pagan to remove his arm as she tensed up, “I am not leaving Ajay alone here.” 

“Who said anything about alone?” He rolled his eyes, chuckling to himself as he tried to get Ishwari to keep walking, but she stayed rooted where she stood. 

“Look, if you were so certain that I was going to harm you or your son, you wouldn’t have come, correct?” Pagan snapped, sarcastically shrugging as he challenged her to say otherwise. “There’s a hundred servants here who can look after your son while I show you around, there’s even a crib left over from when the monarch was still here.” 

“Why would you keep that?” Ishwari was taken aback, remembering her husband’s recollection of the events that followed his bloody rise to power. From what it sounded like, Pagan took a flamethrower to every room he deemed valueless - negotiation room, library, presumably anything that wasn’t directly valuable or couldn’t shoot bullets. So why would he be prepared for a child? 

“Have you seen this place?” He laughed, gesturing flamboyantly at his surroundings. “There’s still dozens of rooms I haven’t even set foot in, why would I bother myself with a fucking nursery?” 

His voice was hostile, but Ishwari noticed he never really answered the question. Ajay babbled senselessly in her arms, likely hungry and exhausted after a night of little rest. 

“I… suppose that would be okay,” she awkwardly accepted his offer. The man was hostile yet hospitable; she was almost certain this was a trick of some kind. 

“Ah, the illusion of choice,” 

Pagan snapped his fingers impatiently and a pair of servant women seemed to emerge from the shadows. Ishwari wondered if he had asked them to follow and take the child from her when he saw fit. She wouldn’t be surprised. 

A young woman, dressed in red and similar in size and stature to Ishwari gently took Ajay from her, and she fiercely fought the impulse to tear the child back and hide him in the fabric of her flowing dress, a weak but comforting notion of protection. 

The servant woman carried Ajay gently, hardly even disturbing him as she turned to leave, followed by a slightly older woman in dark saffron robes. Wordlessly, they took the third door on the left of the hallway, and Ishwari couldn’t take her eyes off them until they were completely out of sight. 

Noticing her distress, Pagan Min tutted, pulling her away to a different door. “You’ll see him after the surprise, and I promise he’ll be absolutely fine. You worry too much.” 

Something in the air shifted as the door closed behind them. Maybe it was the sudden change in scenery (no lavish valuables decorating every corner), or maybe the temperature dropped a few degrees. Nonetheless, something stirred, putting Ishwari on edge as they began to descend a shoddy looking wooden staircase. 

It must have been an edition to the palace, for it was so out of place and poorly crafted compared to the splendour of the architecture, but what could Pagan Min possibly be building? 

The staircase wasn’t long, at it ended at a stone floor, the lighting significantly dimmer than before. The only thing in front of the two was a massive solid metal door that looked like it could survive a bomb. Instead, Pagan produced a key from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. 

Gently, he slid the key into the lock, pausing before he fully unlocked the impressive doorway. He turned to Ishwari, a snake-like grin on his face. 

“Do you trust me, Ishwari?” 

Numbly, she nodded. She really had no choice but to trust him. The atmosphere really didn’t help, though. 

He chuckled gently, “Good,” 

The door swung open dramatically, making Ishwari jump as it thudded against the wall behind. Before she could even see the room that was revealed, the smell hit her senses like a fist. 

It was a dark and musky smell, atrophy and death pungent in the stale air. She couldn’t help but wretch as her eyes watered, the stench of dried blood and rotting flesh overwhelming. 

Even Pagan seemed to be disturbed by the awful air that left the room, waving his right hand comically in front of his face to disperse the stink, although the grin never left his lips. 

“Oh, I know.” he murmured dryly, gesturing for Ishwari to enter the room of death, “What died in there?” 

The joke fell on deaf ears as Ishwari struggled to keep what little food she had consumed over the last twenty four hours in her stomach, every impulse in her body telling her to run. She didn’t want to see whatever that room held. She didn’t want to enter. 

Surprisingly, Pagan waited for her to catch her breath. He watched the woman, eyes glowing in fascination and glee as she responded as any unexpecting person would to such a scenario. And yet she still didn’t seem afraid; just wary and disturbed. That had been the impression Pagan Min had been getting since her first arrival, although he’d never been quite in touch with primal emotions like fear and horror. 

Weakly, Ishwari lifted her head, eyes pleading and face drained of all colour as she stared at the most dangerous man in Kyrat. “What’s in there?” Her voice was breathless and painfully faint. 

“Take a look! You’ll find you’re quite familiar with what’s inside.” His voice was cheerful, but his words were anything but. 

Seeing that she wouldn’t move, Pagan roughly grabbed her by the elbow, forcing her to stumble forward, right into the heart of the room that caused so much distress. The motion was unexpected, and she was still dizzy on her feet, thrown to the ground as the door slammed shut. 

The ground was sticky, her face and hands pressed against the stone flooring. Panic and disgust filled her system, and Ishwari bolted upright, shakily getting to her feet to escape the foul smelling liquid. Looking gingerly down, it became apparent that the dark, muddy stream she’d found herself in was congealed blood, although she had yet to find the source. 

All effort to save the food in her stomach was lost, violently hunched over as new fluids met the floor of the windowless room, disgust and stress overwhelming her tired system. 

Behind her, Pagan grimaced. The entire display was absolutely filthy, although he had seen far worse in his time. He hadn’t intended to make his guest so repulsed. 

Ishwari continued retching for a few seconds longer, eyes tearful and throat burning as her head throbbed from exhaustion and incomprehensible input. Whatever illusion she was under that perhaps King Min was anything less than a monster was gone. Her husband was right. 

A gentle hand pressed into her back, rubbing soothing circles into her hunched spine as she violently coughed. 

“Are you alright? Feeling better now that it’s all out of your system?” Pagan’s voice was tender yet condescending as he whispered soothingly to the wretched woman. She felt like crying in response, but she simply lacked the energy, painfully straightening her back. 

“Good, good,” Pagan trailed off, removing his hand as he confidently strolled to the far corner of the tiny room. Ishwari’s eyes followed him, realising only then that the trickle of blood followed the same path. 

“It seems you’re not the only spy the Golden Path sent, my dear.” He playfully patted what Ishwari had previously dismissed as a bundle of bloodied rags hanging from a hook in the poor lighting of the awful room. The bundle cried out weakly, voice hoarse and defeated. 

She gasped in horror, feeling bile rising from her gut once more. “Who is that?”   
His gesture was jolly and innocent, as if calling her to look at a wild elephant calf across the plains, but his face was anything but. “Come and see.” 

Warily, Ishwari approached the living corpse, noting the sickening looking weapons littering the floor of the cell. This man had no doubt seen the worst this war had to offer, and then some. 

He was nearly unrecognisable, hair dishevelled and wet with sweat or blood. His face was caked in a layer of grit and blood, one eye swollen shut and barely-audible breaths escaping from split lips. 

The poor man had been chained with his hands above him, his torso extending outwards at a painful looking angle. Ishwari winced as she noticed how much flesh had been pulled away from his left shoulder, essentially flayed as exposed muscle and tissue spilled from the space above his chest. 

The scene was horrible, and she backed away, not wanting to see any more. Despite the awful disfigurements he had suffered, she could still tell it was Samir. 

His bloodshot eye followed her as she stumbled away, no words on his bloodied lips but his desire clear. He begged for a release that Pagan Min would never give him. 

“This is your husband’s second, right?” Pagan clasped his hands in front of him, appearing oddly formal, as if presenting to a crowd. “Right. Now he told me all about you before we even started working on him. A shame really.” 

Ishwari couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Words escaped her and yet all she could do was listen. 

“He was out of secrets before we even started with his arm,” Pagan chuckled, gesturing to the exposed and bloody wound that no medical kit could ever fix. She’d never seen such cold blooded brutality. 

“W-Why, then?” Despite the horror she felt, Ishwari could feel anger building up, righteous fury making her face flush red as she stepped towards the king. “Why would you do this if you had nothing to gain?” 

Pagan seemed taken aback by her sudden expression of emotion. After all, the only true thing he could grasp was her anxiety and mistrust. This didn’t sway his demeanour, however. 

“He gave up your little terrorist group without hesitation. He deserves at least a slap on the wrist for that, don’t you agree?” His laughter was dark and inhumane, but Ishwari didn’t even care about him anymore. 

All of her focus was on the poor tortured man who had helped set the Golden Path into motion all those months ago. He didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this. 

Swallowing her fears and bile into one, she slowly approached the husk of the man she used to call a friend. It was her fault he was in this mess; the least she could do is help him escape, whatever the cost. 

Gently feeling for her husband’s gift tucked inside the waistband of her dress with bloodied fingers, Ishwari prepared to deliver what could only be mercy. 

Pagan hadn’t suspected anything, watching, amused as the woman approached his prisoner, likely suspecting her to try to speak to him. He wondered what the tortured man had left to say to his commander’s wife. 

In one swift swing of the arm, the weaponised pen was lodged deeply in Samir’s throat. Surprise overcame both Ishwari and Pagan; her sudden strength both physical and mental a shock to them both. The man’s dying cries grounded them both. 

Ishwari couldn’t believe how soft the flesh of the neck of been, or how dangerous the gift really was. Samir gave one final splutter, spitting blood and bending impossibly forward. She murmured a quick prayer for him, sincerely hoping that he would find peace from his suffering, wherever he ended up. 

Pagan let out a bemused laugh, drawing Ishwari’s fearful eyes back to his overpowering figure. “Now I did  _ not  _ see that coming.” He gave a short round of applause, almost mocking her painful act, her emotional distress not among his concerns. 

“Was that a pen?” his laughter deepened, somehow finding amusement where there was only death and suffering in Ishwari’s eyes. 

“It was mercy,” she responded firmly, not regretting her decision but fearful of the consequences. Would she take this man’s place? What would happen to Ajay? Would Mohan know? 

Considering these questions made her head hurt even more than it already did. 

“To me, it looked like revenge.” 

Pagan walked back to the other side of the torture chamber, being extra cautious not to step in any of the puddles or marks that spoiled the stony groundwork. Less dramatically than before, he pulled the door open, pausing for a moment before gesturing for Ishwari to exit first. 

“Oh, you are far more interesting that I’d originally anticipated my dear.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (this is a filler. forgive me for my transgressions. i have become what i hate the most)

While convinced that she’d never be able to find rest again after that morning’s ordeals, the moment her head touched the cushion, Ishwari was gone. 

It wasn’t comfortable - a pile of blankets and rugs on the floor of the nursery, Ajay’s crib only a few metres from her, but it was such a luxury to not be on her feet anymore she just couldn’t keep her eyes open. 

Pagan had given her a change of clothes and allowed her to scrub the gruesome mess from her skin, and yet she believed she could never possibly feel clean again. Her husband had warned her of King Min’s cruelty; she had believed it and worn her fear on her sleeve, and yet nothing could have prepared her for what she’d seen. For what she’d done. 

Ishwari got to her feet, swaying slightly and trying to stretch the tension and ache from her bones. Her new outfit was fairly similar to those of the servants - traditional and flowing, however it lacked decoration and was dyed an ugly burgundy colour that she didn’t suit. Ajay’s clothes had be changed as well, although what he wore was more western and blue, kind of like the clothes Pagan Min wore. Ishwari found it odd, to say the least. 

A glance out of the window told her it must be late afternoon. She wondered what Mohan would be doing. She had spent many hours praying to Kyra that he and the rest of their village encampment found safety, but since she genuinely had no clue where they might be she supposed she’d just have to wait. Assuming the king allowed that to happen. 

Ajay began to shift in the crib, likely restless and bored. Ishwari picked him up and gently lowered him to the carpeted floor. The entire palace was beautiful, but this room in particular was a work of art; each ornament and piece of furniture ornate and decorative. She had no doubt that only the most royal of Kyrati children had seen this room, until now. 

Ajay had only really just grasped walking, capable of waddling short distances at a moderate pace. Ishwari walked to one side of the room and held out her arms to her son, encouraging him to practice walking to her, and praising him when he managed. She did this again, and then again, the normality of the action distracting her from the abnormality of everything else. 

“Settling in alright?” His voice came from the doorway, just out of sight of the woman, but there was no confusion as to who it belonged to. 

Confidently, Pagan entered the nursery, his blazer gone but white shirt still tucked in and pristine. It seemed that he too had cleaned himself up after the ‘surprise’. 

Ishwari quickly got to her feet, scooping Ajay up in her arms defensively. Pagan still towered over the pair, but she felt ever-so-slightly safer at her full height. When she didn’t answer, he sighed, shaking his head and stepping back. 

“Are we not happy about the little surprise?” Pagan’s tone was patronising, and Ishwari glared incredulously at him. He couldn’t be serious. 

“Alright, alright,” Pagan conceded, leaning against the decorated crib, “I don’t want you to think of me as the evil dictator your husband’s no doubt framed me as.”

“You haven’t made the best start,” Ishwari muttered, almost inaudibly. A smile grew on Pagan’s face, slow at first, and then cold and snakelike. She impulsively pulled Ajay closer to her, and he let out a small gurgle in her arms. 

“Oh, yes, let’s start over.” It was a demand, not a request. “Over lunch! You must be starving.” 

Ishwari hadn’t realised, but now that he’d said that, she felt the hollow discomfort of hunger deep in her belly. Weakly, she nodded. Pagan’s smile became genuine, and he turned and offered his arm to the woman. 

She didn’t accept as she was still holding Ajay, but she walked alongside him, perhaps closer than one normally would in retribution. He seemed pleased enough with that, and lead her through a heavy wooden door that the servants had to hold open for them to pass through, up a short flight of stairs, and into a dining room that seemed far too grand to possibly house Ishwari. 

The woman Ishwari had seen skulking behind Pagan’s throne was seated to the left of the head of the table, glaring at the pair through her silky fringe as they entered. She’d already started eating, the food laid out on her plate and in the serving dishes mostly unrecognisable to Ishwari, and yet her stomach twisted and groaned painfully at the sight and smell. 

“Yuma, we have a guest, you know?” Pagan left Ishwari’s side to scold his sister for starting her meal, before taking the seat at the head of the table beside her. 

Yuma responded in a language that Ishwari didn’t speak, but by the way she glared as she spoke, it was apparent that she didn’t care for Ishwari at all. 

Pagan responded, and Yuma paused for a moment, before angrily getting to her feat, disturbing the plates and cups as she did so. The king sighed as the door slammed shut behind her. 

“Ignore her. She’s been taking this leadership gig extremely seriously lately - boring.” 

Pagan didn’t seem to notice as the servants hurried to clean up the table where Yuma had been sitting moments before. He waved his hand to gesture for Ishwari to sit on his other side, and a woman quickly pulled out the chair he was motioning to. 

Her feet dragged as Ishwari considered the absurdity of this entire scenario, but she obliged. As she sat down, the woman wordlessly pulled Ajay from her arms, and Ishwari recoiled in shock. 

Before she could protest, Ajay was placed gently in a tall, child-sized plastic chair with its own table, and a bowl of orange-coloured mush was placed before him. He was stationed between Pagan and Ishwari, facing away from the table as the king smiled almost fondly at the child. 

“Thank you,” Ishwari said meekly to the woman who had already started spoon-feeding Ajay. Pagan chuckled softly. 

Every part of Ishwari demanded that she begin serving herself the foreign and sweet smelling food, but she somehow managed to control herself, and wait until Pagan Min started. He seemed to take forever to serve himself, revelling in Ishwari’s obvious discomfort as she watched hungrily. 

“Yuma had the chefs of her favourite restaurants from back home shipped over. I think she misses Hong Kong.” He sighed, almost reminiscent as he filled his plate with a spoonful of one of the dozens of beautifully prepared dishes. 

“Don’t you?” 

Pagan paused, considering his answer. “I suppose. But everything in Kyrat’s so much more colourful and predictable. Plus, the dal here is to die for.” 

Finally, he was done, and he gestured, amused, for Ishwari to serve herself. She wasted no time in filling her plate with everything she could get her hands on, and immediately started as Pagan did the same. 

While unrecognisable and rushed, every bite Ishwari took felt like the best she’d ever had. Even as she slowed and began to feel full, she couldn’t deny how lovely and interesting the food was. Although, Pagan seemed uninterested as he picked at the plate with his chopsticks. 

“Have you found another little spy yet?” he said suddenly, dropping his utensils, “I suppose you haven’t. Oh, trust me you’ll hate this.”

Ishwari furrowed her brows, delicately placing down her fork. Her eyes were already watering as her lips formed the question she’d been dreading. “Did you find them?” 

“Well, we know where your husband is, if that’s what you’re asking. You’ll never believe what he’s done. Brutal by my standards.” Pagan snickered, buffing his nails on his shirt. 

“What?” Ishwari demanded, sick of the man’s theatrics and too worried to care about her manners. 

“So, Mohan took his best men, I assume, into the forest with a handful of children and a crate full of American weaponry.” He cleared his throat. “Our  _ sources _ say this was a ‘night-hunting exercise’, go figure.” 

Ishwari felt the blood drain from her face, and everything she’d just eaten sat like a rocks in her gut. She couldn’t believe her ears. 

“That can’t be right,” she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. “I told Mohan to move everyone! He should have had time!” 

“Oh, yes. Plenty of time.” Pagan smiled darkly, reaching with his fingers for what looked like a ball of brown rice. “And still he left them. Now, why do you think that is?” 

Ishwari was speechless. Part of her was glad that Mohan was alive, but she couldn’t process what she was being told. Granted, their village wasn’t that big, but that was still dozens of lives that he would have deemed expendable, and for what? 

“Correct me if I’m wrong here, my dear, but it seems like he didn’t want it to look like he predicted the attack.” He dropped the ball of rice back on his plate, and the contents spilled out, still steaming and soft. Ishwari felt numb. 

“So he still thinks you’re spying! That much I’d guessed, but to sacrifice  _ all  _ the women and elders to prove a point?” Pagan laughed heartily, getting to his feet and rubbing residue from his fingers. “I appreciate his commitment, but that man sounds like a real cunt.” 

Immediately after saying this, he smacked his lips in realisation. “I’m so sorry, I need to watch my language around  _ you _ .” He turned to Ajay, shooing away the woman who had been quietly feeding him the whole time. Almost fatherly, he wiped the corner of the child’s mouth, eyes softer than Ishwari had ever seen, before grimacing and recoiling, seemingly disgusted.

He aggressively rubbed his thumb on the front of his shirt, leaving a slight, orange mark. “Clean him up.” he said to no one in particular, snapping his fingers as he did so. Ishwari was no longer surprised when her son was scooped up. It still made her extremely anxious, but she did appreciate the help. 

“Ishwari, you’re coming with me.” A statement not a question. She got to her feet, her legs moving with absent abandon. 

“Another surprise?” she replied numbly, not sure how much more stress her brain could take before she had a complete meltdown. 

Pagan Min snorted. “No, my dear, this will be  _ awesome. _ ”


	5. Chapter 5

As they walked, Ishwari wasn’t even considering what was to come. She couldn’t believe Mohan had just knowingly left dozens of people to die. Could this be her fault? She had told him to get  _ everyone _ out, but then she’d lied that Pagan didn’t know about her awful spying attempt. Ishwari hated the war. 

“Oh, stop moping.” Pagan snapped, as if reading her thoughts. He stopped abruptly in front of a heavy looking door. It stood out like a sore thumb; black and metallic against the marble and wood that the palace seemed to consist of. Just the sight of it reminded Ishwari of Pagan’s torture chamber, and she bit her lip nervously. 

He leant against the door and pressed the handle, a slight pause before the door opened. Ishwari guessed this was a way of unlocking it, although she couldn’t quite work out how. 

“Just through here,” Pagan said, walking through and forcing Ishwari to catch the heavy door in order to follow. He took a deep breath, releasing it loudly as he stood proudly in front of a deadly collection. 

The door slammed shut behind them, but Ishwari didn’t care. She couldn’t take her eyes off the dangerous surplus she saw before her. The weapons that the US government had been sending to Mohan looked like toys compared to the machinery laid out before them. There were missile launchers, rifles, shotguns, mines, and plenty more that the woman didn’t even recognise. Though undoubtedly smuggled, the extensive range of explosives and guns only proved how powerful Pagan was, and how futile the Golden Path was becoming in her mind. 

“What do you think is the most dangerous thing in this room?” Pagan said, not looking up from the weaponry. 

Ishwari thought for a moment. “You.” 

Pagan’s eyes crinkled around the edges, and he flashed her a genuine smile, for once not appearing condescending and frightening.

“Flattering, really. But no.” He turned away, picking up a small, antique looking revolver. He filled the chambers quickly, almost appearing distracted as he allowed muscle memory to do the work for him. 

He held out the gun to Ishwari. “It’s you.”

Pagan’s smile began to look more like a grimace, and Ishwari couldn’t wrap her head around what she was being told. 

Still, she took the weapon, suspicious but curious to learn what this man was thinking. 

“ _ Me?”  _

“Yes,” Pagan turned away, leading her into another room, where a glass wall cut it in two, a row of targets lining the far wall. “You’re the, what’s it called? Tarun Ma-ta-ra? Goddess reborn something-or-the-other.” 

His words were careless, but Ishwari could tell he’d put a lot of thought into this. That said, she still didn’t understand. 

“So?” The revolver was heavier than it looked, and while her finger was nowhere near the trigger, the sheer power she held in her hands made her tremble a bit. 

“Keeping a bloody goddess in my palace is certain to turn a few monkey’s heads, you know?” Pagan pulled Ishwari roughly into the glass-encased room, and forced the gun into her right hand rather than the absent grip she’d carried it in before. 

“But killing you would cause uproar, right? Now, I’m very particular with who I kill.” He pulled her arm up, aiming it at the targets for her, before stepping back. “Shoot.” 

Ishwari looked at him dubiously, hand shaking from the weight and the potential she held. 

“Come on, my dear, have you never shot a gun before?” His voice was mocking but he raised his eyebrows when she shook her head, clearly surprised. 

“Did Mohan Ghale never teach you?” 

“He didn’t want me to fight.” Ishwari lowered her arm, almost embarrassed at her own weakness. “I wanted to, but he thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it.” 

“And this little spying trip was, what? A compromise?” This time, Pagan gave an incredulous look, fingers laced in front of him as he considered his words as he drew closer. 

“Now, if  _ I _ were Mohan Ghale, you’d be in the heart of everything. Every battlefield would know your name. My men would cower at the sight of the Tarun Matara.” 

Pagan picked up her arm again, but gently this time. Maintaining his grip, he rested his head on her shoulder, aiming through her arm as he lined up the target. 

“You could be so much more than just a figurehead,” His breath tickled, making the hairs on Ishwari’s neck stand. She couldn’t help but blush at his words and closeness, speechless and distracted from who he really was. 

“Now, shoot.” 

Ishwari obliged, firmly pressing the trigger as Pagan Min’s hand guided hers. She was no stranger to gunfire, but it had never been at her own hand, and she couldn’t help but jump slightly at the sound and flash. 

The bullet hit the target, but it was nowhere near the centre; too high and too far left. Pagan forcibly steadied her hand before nodding once. “Try again.” 

Ishwari fired twice this time, less alarmed at the loud  _ bang,  _ and silently revelling in the smell of burning gunpowder. 

They were closer this time, but not by much. She shook her head, finally finding her words again, and turned away. She pushed the gun back into Pagan’s hand and stepped back, regaining her personal space. 

“If you killed me, you’d seem more powerful that Kyra herself.” 

Ishwari said this like a question, but really it was a challenge. This man’s desire for power made him unstable, and yet he seemed to plan his every move with so much caution it seemed impossible. 

Without warning, Pagan raised his arm and fired the remaining hots, hardly looking as he emptied every chamber. Ishwari recoiled, clearly on edge after her comment, and he smirked wickedly in response. 

All three hit the centre. 

“No one wants their leaders to be more powerful than their Gods.” Pagan dropped the gun carelessly, before digging one hand into the pocket of his blue trousers, producing Ishwari’s pen. He tossed it in her direction, and she scrambled to catch it. 

“Besides, dangerous as you are, I don’t think you’ll kill me just yet.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps chapter* this bad boy can fit so much filler in it

Over the next week, Ishwari seemed to grow accustomed to the mercurial King and the way his palace worked. There were times where he wouldn’t let her leave his sight, and sometimes she’d go a whole day before seeing Pagan at all. 

She never stopped looking for Golden Path spies, hoping that she’d have just a moment where she could talk freely and deliver a message to her husband. Wherever they were, they stayed in the shadows, and the eyes of every person who served her quickly found the ground in her presence.

Without Ajay, she would have definitely gone insane. He was just beginning to talk, although nothing he said made sense. It made Ishwari sad that Mohan was missing his son growing up, although realistically she doubted he’d have time to notice, even if they were there in front of them. 

She’d been keeping the door of the nursery open so that she’d see Pagan coming. It wasn’t much, but taking away the element of surprise made him seem increasingly less frightening as the days passed. Or maybe she was getting too comfortable. 

A group of servants flocked by, carrying a large, unmarked crate between them. Ishwari could only guess what they were holding, or where they were taking it. The furthest to the back - a young man who couldn’t have been older than eighteen - stumbled slightly, losing his grip for a moment. Something slipped out of his hand as he caught it, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

They continued, and Ishwari quickly got to her feet, leaving Ajay on the pile of blankets on the floor. A piece of paper rested perfectly in the doorway, crumpled up and stained brown. 

Ishwari looked once more to the hurried servants, but none of them turned to her, and soon they had disappeared. Brows furrowed, she picked the paper up herself and opened it, curious. 

The first thing she saw was the Golden Path insignia scribbled into the top-right corner of the page. This was a note from her people! 

Hands shaking, she began to read the scribbled writing with as much haste as it had appeared to be written with. 

 

_ Ishwari, my love,  _

_ I am so proud of you. Thanks to you and Ajay, we still have enough fighters to stand a chance against Min, even though we’ve lost our camp in the mountains.  _

_ I understand now that Samir isn’t coming back. I’m sorry that you’re alone, but soon we will achieve victory, and you will be in my arms once more.  _

_ Any information you have to relay will be an undeniable advantage to the Golden Path. If you can find the time to slip away, meet me at the Ghale homestead. It’s not too far.  _

_ Always yours,  _

_ Mohan Ghale. _

 

It was strange, Ishwari pondered. She was certain he’d have more to say, although she couldn't even begin to guess what. 

It read like Mohan, but it didn’t feel like it could have been him. Maybe she wasn’t sure if she knew him at all; Pagan was so manipulative as to make her question her very marriage. She shook her head, dismissing the thought. 

Ishwari had been to the Ghale estate once, as it was where they had been married all those years ago. She could probably find it if she had a map, but she didn’t, and with Pagan’s erratic monitoring schedules she’d likely never find a chance to leave. 

She still needed to deliver a message, some supply routes,  _ anything _ just to know that this hadn’t been for nothing. 

Carefully, Ishwari tucked the letter under the mattress in Ajay’s crib; it was the only place she could think to store anything that Pagan wouldn’t check. He did seem very interested in her son, though. It was strange. 

Ajay giggled, completely oblivious to his mother’s dilemma. Ishwari smiled and gently lifted him from the splendid cradle, pushing all stress from her mind to focus on her child. She had an idea. 

Purposefully, she made her way out of the room, Ajay in her arms. She hadn’t really explored the palace by herself, except to go to the washroom and collect her meals when Pagan didn’t feel like dining with them. She did, however, know her way back to the front door. 

The palace seemed far smaller when Ishwari was alone, but the winding and decorated corridors were still just as impressive. Lots of the artifacts and treasures had clearly been pawned; empty frames on the walls where paintings would have been hung, the odd vase without its lid, someone had even gone so far as to begin peeling the gold off a mounted statue of Kyra herself. Even Pagan seemed to have more respect for the culture than the Nationalists did. 

It had only been a week since the first time she ascended this staircase, Ajay in her arms, even dressed in the same clothing. She felt like she’d aged a hundred years, and like she’d outgrown the goddess she was supposed to house. 

Before she even reached the final step, she was stopped by one of the Royal Guards. He was clearly foreign, with a bushy ginger moustache, and a red uniform that seemed just a little bit too tight. 

“Where are you going?” 

Ishwari had expected to be stopped. Pagan Min had undoubtedly made sure that she’d be unable to escape, despite the illusion of freedom. 

“I just want to take Ajay outside for a few minutes. He needs to see the sun.” 

Ajay babbled grumpily, almost as if on cue. The man seemed perplexed by this, but definitely not convinced. 

“We won’t even leave the courtyard,” she added, feeling like she’d already lost. 

“You can’t be by yourself.” he responded gruffly, before looking away as if he’d lost interest. 

“Well, an escort would be appreciated.” Ishwari responded seamlessly, although such a thing would ruin her plan. 

“Y-yes, I can take her.” A meek voice rang out like a bell against the silence. Ishwari turned to see a western woman dressed in servant clothing awkwardly standing a few steps above her, before scurrying to catch up. 

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but King Min wouldn’t be happy if the child fell ill under his care.” 

Ishwari made a face, somewhere between confusion and scepticism. None of the servants had really spoken to her until now, and this woman wasn’t even originally from Kyrat. Ishwari didn’t know much about royalty, but she knew this wasn’t right. 

The guard paused for a moment, thinking, before dismissively responding “Fine,” and giving the two women a long warning stare. The fair woman gave him a small smile, before gently taking Ishwari’s arm to guide her. 

“We won’t have very long.” she murmured, audible to the guards as well as Ishwari, although it’s not like that was a surprise to anyone. Ishwari just nodded in response, allowing herself to be guided by the stranger

The guard closest uncertainly pulled one of the massive doors open, only just wide enough for them to slip through. It was as if he was concealing a secret, eager to push it out of sight. 

They walked through the palace gardens, unkempt and wild, roots beginning to disturb the once-beautiful stone pathway they delicately trod. Ishwari doubted they had been cared for once since Pagan Min’s bloody rise to power years ago. 

“Thank you,” Ishwari said finally, drawing to a halt at a stagnant fountain. There was a wall surrounding the property, but it had crumbled in numerous places, giving a view of the outside world. The contrast was breathtaking. 

“No worries,” she smiled absently, adjusting her dress uncomfortably, “we don’t get to go outside much either.” 

Both women sat down on the edge of the fountain, the green and cloudy water hardly reaching halfway up the pool walls. Ishwari wanted to ask where she came from, and why she was in the palace, but it seemed wrong. Instead, she just bounced Ajay on her lap, and smiled as he giggled. 

“Are you… a prisoner?” The woman spoke after a minute. She looked at least ten years older than Ishwari, but the way she spoke was almost childlike. From her accent, she guessed that the woman was from the United States. 

“I don’t know.” Ishwari kept her focus on Ajay as she spoke, “Are you?” 

She simply laughed in response. 

It was ominous. Despite the woman’s Western features, Ishwari doubted that she’d have noticed her amongst the other servants had she not stepped forward. It was frightening how quickly she’d grown used to them. 

There were no guards within earshot, but Ishwari understood that they were hardly free to speak. 

The woman stood up slowly, her eyes transfixed on a section of the massive wall where it had crumbled enough for maybe a dohle to squeeze through. Ishwari didn’t follow, confused by the woman’s odd behaviour. 

“Ishwari, look,” her face appeared excited, but her tone was stifled, “there’s a bear trying to climb a tree.” 

Ishwari was no stranger to bears, and she almost considered ignoring the woman who was appearing less and less sane with every second that passed. There was something in the way she was gesturing - urgent but almost restrained - she couldn’t help herself. 

The woman was crouched down all the way, but Ishwari remained standing, Ajay in her arms. She looked curiously down at the servant, but then her gaze shifted to an upturned stone that had fallen from the crumbling wall. 

It was fairly unremarkable, but there was a glitter of something beneath it. Without thinking, Ishwari bent down, fingers shaking as she brushed away the rubble. 

It was the Golden Path insignia! It was just dust marking a stone, but it was far too smooth to have fallen from the wall. Ishwari turned it over, careful not to smudge the lettering that had been pressed carefully into the surface. 

 

_ A dream to walk a golden path. I’ll see you here soon, my love. _

 

Ishwari paused, biting her tongue as she read the words. There was no doubt; this had been written by Mohan. She knew the letter had felt off! He was far too clever or careful to leave so much information. 

The woman behind her straightened her back, and gave Ishwari a small smile, raising her finger to her lips. 

Instinctively, Ishwari rubbed the stone against her skirt, removing almost all trace of the glittering chalk from the smooth rock, leaving only a dusty stain to prove anything had ever been there. 

“He hid it there in the small hours of the morning,” she whispered, concealing it slightly with a small cough for anyone listening. 

Ishwari scowled, unable to trust her but once again finding herself helpless to do otherwise. Wordlessly, she dropped the stone and turned her back on the Western servant. Whether or not she was on Pagan’s side, she was dangerous. Everyone in this palace was dangerous. 

Pulling Ajay closer, she spoke to no one in particular. “I wish to go inside now.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pagan wasn't even there. unbelievable. whats the point.


	7. Chapter 7

Pagan Min had called her dangerous, and yet she felt anything but. Some days Ishwari felt like a snow leopard, stalking her prey for miles but never gaining the courage to strike as he laid down more and more traps, her chances slimming by the hour. 

But she’d seen through this one. The trap he’d set rested on emotions and loyalty alone, and yet she’d recently found herself lacking both. The letter was a test. 

Perhaps the rock was too - it would have been easy enough for King Min to plant the stone and tell the servant to take her to it, but Ishwari was certain that the letter was  _ not  _ from her husband. 

Ishwari sat in the centre of the room, Ajay resting in his crib, oblivious to his mother’s helpless bargain. The parchment was folded between her fingertips, her touch light so as not to leave a mark. 

She would wait until Pagan arrived, and she would give him the note. 

Since her arrival, she’d hardly found time to meditate, and while she tried to bring her mind to stillness, she simply couldn’t as she sat in wait, legs crossed and back straight - trying to look as dignified as she could. Some Tarun Matara. 

It didn’t take as long as she’d thought it would, but the unmistakable sound of the confident strides he took quickly filled every corner of the seemingly empty palace. Ishwari swallowed nervously, throat dry all of a sudden. 

“Ah, Ishwari, my dear,” his voice boomed before he’s even entered the room. It was as if he knew that she was waiting for him. 

He strode in, his self-assuredness oh-so evident, although he looked different. He’d done something to his hair, made it lighter at the top like a westerner. On him, despite its contrast with his dull navy suit, it made him look inhuman; like a God. 

“It’s been so long!” Pagan peered over the bars of the crib, smiling warmly at sleeping Ajay, before turning to the woman, “Terribly sorry, I had some visitors you see, but no more. I don’t like to neglect my guests.” 

He stood for a moment, almost unsure of himself as he spoke down to Ishwari, who remained seated. Pagan shook his head, smile faltering a bit as blond locks covered his almond eyes momentarily. 

“You changed your hair,” Ishwari noted tersely, squeezing the edges of the folded letter as she averted her gaze. 

“Do you like it? We could get some for you too. Pink, to match Yuma!” he offered his hand, smiling as he pulled her to a feet before she could refuse. For just a moment, he appeared like a child, eager to please and impress, but that quickly melted away as he spied the note in her fingertips. 

“And what’s this? A little love note?” His voice was playful and his laugh seemed genuine, but there was a ferocious intensity behind his eyes that corrupted his jolly facade. 

“I think it’s a note from Mohan,” she offered it to him, completing the interaction with a slack abandon in her arms. Everything about this felt wrong. 

Pagan seemed surprised, but took it without hesitation, turning away to read it. He muttered out loud as he read it, pacing dramatically as Ishwari just watched, absently gripping at the golden pen in her waistband. 

“Well,” he finally spoke, making Ishwari jump, “this is a lot. Remind me why you’re betraying your husband now, would you?” 

Ishwari shook her head, trying to appear as unsettled as she could, which given the circumstances was hardly a challenge. 

“I told you, he’s out of control.” Ishwari felt tears welling in her eyes, and a weight in the pit of her stomach told her this wasn’t a cover story anymore. “The mountain camp, he… That’s not the man I married. He seems more of a threat to my people than you.” 

This bit was a lie, as she was well aware of the number of people Yuma had hunted almost like a game, and she wasn’t forgetting the constant flow of hostages the Royal Army took for their pleasure, but Mohan no longer seemed like the answer. She wondered if she would have ever seen that if she’d stayed. 

Pagan looked baffled, and took a moment to process the information. He expected foul play somewhere, but it was hard to deny the distress the woman before her felt. While he had no desire to comfort or shelter Ishwari, he couldn’t help but feel a touch of pity. It wasn’t her fault, after all. 

“Fundamentalists. They do that.” Pagan tucked the note unceremoniously into his breast pocket. “He didn’t trust me when we first met. Said I was too young to get anywhere in Kyrat. That I should go back to where I came from and come back when I was ready to die for his country.

“But then, I brought the heir, and suddenly I was respected; a leader in a foreign land, worthy of admiration.” He shook his head again, facing Ishwari who’d only heard this story told from the other side. “Right up until I wasn’t, of course, but it’s a bit late.” He laughed, and Ishwari found herself feeling sick. What if it was her husband’s note after all?

“How old were you when you married? Must have been young, yes? Twelve, thirteen, much younger than him.” 

This line of questioning made Ishwari feel uncomfortable. She bit her lip, unsure of what he was implying. She nodded nonetheless. 

“Is that the kind of future you want for Kyrat? Children marrying men nearly double their age?” Pagan turned away, looking for somewhere to sit despite the only proper piece of furniture being the crib. Finding nothing, he settled for leaning on the doorframe. 

“We were in love!” Ishwari responded with more fury than intended, “And it’s tradition.” 

“But if you met the man now - so out of control that you fled to me - would you have married him?” 

Ishwari’s cheeks flushed in anger. “You don’t understand love.” 

Pagan chuckled “Perhaps not. But I also don’t understand why you’re defending such an archaic approach to marriage.”  

He rested his head on the doorframe, considering his next words carefully. 

“But, yes. Thank you for telling me about the note. I don’t suppose you know where the Ghale homestead is, my dear?” 

Ishwari shook her head, for once the anger she felt overcoming any fear surrounding his presence. What right did this foreigner have to ridicule the customs that had been in place for as long as Kyrat itself? She didn’t like his flippant disregard of the culture, nor the confident way in which he did so. 

She also didn’t like that she was beginning to doubt herself. 

“He only took me there once. I couldn’t find it on a map if I tried.” 

When Ishwari was a child she used to think that if she lied too much her lips would turn black and her tongue would cease to taste. She wondered what her younger self would have to say about this entire situation. 

“Of course.” Pagan cleared his throat, standing up straight and adjusting his blazer, preparing to leave. 

“I actually have a trip planned. Leaving tomorrow.” Pagan ran his fingers over the note protruding from his pocket absently, “Now, I’d hate to leave you here with Yuma; she’s a bit cranky at the moment. Perhaps you’ll come with me instead?” 

He was facing away, almost out the door when he made the choiceless offer, but he gave her a long stare from the corner of his eye. Ishwari couldn’t believe her ears. 

Her head swam with questions.  _ Where? How long? What about Ajay?  _ But all she could muster was stunned silence. 

“It’s the States, so we’ll have to get you two some passports, but it won’t be a problem.” He waved dismissively at Ajay, before finally finding his way out the door. 

“You’re very trustworthy for a spy, you know?” He patted his breast pocket, concealing the note, before laughing. Ishwari could only watch as he left, trying to process that entire interaction. 

It looked like she was going to America. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters?? in one day???? after a 2 week hiatus????   
> sweaty, it's called self control and punishment   
> and also this is shaping up to look like a kidnapped by 1D esque fanfic so if the quality's gone we can at least raise the quantity a teensy bit, hey?


End file.
